


Things Hoped For

by kosmickway (KMDWriterGrl)



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, post-ep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 15:16:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KMDWriterGrl/pseuds/kosmickway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-ep for "Evidence of Things Not Seen." My idea of a missing scene explaining exactly why CJ looked so significantly at Toby when she said she had faith in “us.”</p><p>NOTE: I made significant changes to this work, including expanding it to include a sex scene that was only hinted at before; if you've read it before, please feel free to read it again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Hoped For

“How about neither of you can hit the fifth row. That’s my bet.” CJ rolled her eyes at Will and Toby as they divided a deck of cards between them. “But back to what I was saying. The vernal equinox--”

“CJ, it isn’t possible. If it were possible at one moment in time it would be equally possible in all moments in time. That’s a basic principle of temporal mechanics.” Toby held up a card and flicked his wrist slightly before nodding at Will. "Are we gonna do this?" 

“I’m not conceding my point," CJ clarified. "I’m just putting it on hold till you two boneheads are done flicking cards all over the Press Room.” She leaned back against the window sill and crossed her arms. “All right, let’s see you both hit the fifth row."

There was an explosive pop, another, then another, but it wasn’t until the bullet actually hit the outside of the bulletproof window a millimeter from her face that CJ processed the fact that someone was shooting. Before she could duck, Toby grabbed her and yanked her down to the floor, his hand tangled in her hair, the weight of his body coming down hard on her. Then there was more weight and another set of hands on her as Will threw himself to the floor as well. 

“Somebody’s shooting!” she gasped, and for one horrifying moment she was back in Rosslyn three years ago when she’d been brought forcefully to the ground and shielded from bullets. She could feel Toby’s chest rising and falling as he lay on top of her, his breath stirring her hair. One hand was wrapped protectively around the back of her neck; she could feel his fingers shaking against her skin. Against her own better judgment she tried to raise her head to see what the hell was happening, only to have Toby firmly press her head back down.“Stay down. Stay still.”

The door burst open with a crashing wham and CJ flinched back, ducking her head, steeling herself for the bite of bullets in her flesh. Toby’s hands tightened in her hair, pulling until it was painful. She didn’t care; she was glad for any connectivity between them, thankful it wasn’t as it had been at Rosslyn when they’d been separated and she’d had no idea whether he was dead or alive.

“Is everyone all right in here?”

Agents. Thank God for agents. But even hearing their voices didn’t make Will or Toby rise from their places.

Guarding her. They were guarding her. Her first instinct was to run and hide and these guys, her guys, were holding on to her for dear life, had thrown themselves across her to shield her from hot metal. Even now, with agents they knew and trusted in the room, neither of them was letting her up—Toby remained on top of her, his body curved over hers.

“Is everyone all right?” the agent repeated more insistently. 

“We’re all right,” Toby said. 

“Ms. Cregg?” the agent asked worriedly, probably uncertain as to why the guys were dog-piled on top of her if she wasn’t injured. 

“We’re all right,” she said, her voice muffled. Toby hand was still on the back of her neck, though his grip relaxed as the recognition of who was in the room filtered in. 

Will called out the direction and angle of the gunshots to one of the agents, who nodded brusquely. “You need to wait outside.”

Will hopped up, lithe as a cat. CJ noticed, though, that his hands were trembling as he reached down to help her up. She scrambled to her feet under her own power, her legs shaking. She felt the hand on her back that meant Toby was on his feet and just behind her. 

A phalanx of agents hurried them to the Oval Office through hallways bare of people other than suited men with side arms. The President briskly assessed each of his staffers as they entered.

“Toby, you okay?”

“Fine, sir.”

“CJ, you?”

“Okay, sir.”

“Will? How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Who’s Will, sir?”

Leo stepped forward. “Lieutenant Bailey, I’m glad to see you’re alive but you’re not code-word cleared so I need you out of earshot.” 

Will acquiesced and left, an agent in tow. CJ watched him go and experienced a moment of irrational panic that she might not see him again. 

“He’s fine,” she reminded herself, “This is the White House, not Rosslyn. It’s the safest place to be in a shooting.” 

Unless you happen to be in the Press Room with the door locked, playing a bizarre version of 52-card pick-up … then the bullets come through the windows … or would if those windows weren’t bullet proof. 

The memory of that bullet striking the outside of the window right in front of her face—and the knowledge of what it would have done TO her face if the windows weren’t bulletproof--was so terrifying that she shuddered violently. Toby gave her a quick searching look and she nodded, reigning her emotions firmly in.

The door burst open, admitting first Charlie, and then Debbie. The sounds made her jump, though she was gratified to note that she wasn’t the only one who did so. Toby cast her another look and she nodded again. 

There were no blue and red lights, no screams, no sirens. Why the hell was she thinking of Rosslyn? Why was she remembering the bullets through the window of the police car, the feel of shattered glass in her hair, Sam’s body shielding hers, the hard throb of blood in her aching head? 

Hold it together, Claudia Jean. 

“Shut it down! Crash it!” Butterfield snapped as soon as the words, “picked off by a sniper” left Leo’s mouth. 

“Crash the West Wing,” an agent barked into the red telephone. Debbie repeated it on the phone in the outer office, locking down the entire building. Everyone would be held inside until the Secret Service had secured the perimeter and made a check of each room inside the White House. They'd be free to go about their business (or, in the senior staff’s case, their card game) while the sweep was underway. 

Toby took her arm and led her out of the Oval Office, leaving the President, Leo, the bemused translator, and several others from State to call back Chagorin. Affairs of state still took precedence even in the midst of danger; the work had to continue. 

“Come on,” Toby said, tugging at her arm.

“Where are we going?”

“Your office.”

“Why my office?”

“Because I don’t want to go back to the poker game just yet. And if you’re going to have a break down I want you to have it in private.” Toby steered her into her office and shut the door. 

“Who said I’m having a break down?” CJ snapped defensively. “I’m not having a break down!” 

She might need a stiff drink but that was an entirely different matter.

“You’re shaking,” Toby pointed out.

“I’m cold.”

“You’re wearing a sweater.”

“Fine, then, I’m in shock.”

“That's probably closer.” He studied CJ’s face. “I know what you’re thinking about. Hell, I’m thinking about it and I’m not the one who nearly got a bullet to the face at the Press Room window.”

“You should be a diplomat with all your sensitivity and tact, you know that?” CJ rubbed her arms for warmth and admitted, “Yes, dammit, I’m thinking about Rosslyn. It makes me want to retch.”

“That’s why I wanted to get you alone for a minute.” He leaned against the desk, studied her, and then said quietly, kindly, “come here.”

She moved toward him until she was close enough to smell his understated cologne. Then his arms were around her and, against her own better judgment, she was clinging to him, her hands fisted in his suit jacket. The involuntary trembling that she’d been trying to quell for the last half-hour came pouring out of her in a series of hard shudders. His reaction was just as visceral...and surprising. He clutched at her and then went so far as to bury his face in her hair, a shudder moving through him too. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, though she wasn't sure whether it was directed to himself or her

She laughed a littlke, frightened by the fact that there was such a wild edge to the laugh. “It's not. I had just started feeling like I could leave the house without ducking my head!”

“I know.” He rubbed her back, his wide palms warm and gentle. “Back-firing cars still make me jump. So do slamming doors.”

“Ironic, since slamming doors is something you’re particularly good at,” she said, making a wretched attempt at humor. 

“I’m a man of many talents.” His hands moved up from her back to stroke her hair. CJ relaxed into it, finally starting to feel warmer. 

“We should check on Josh,” she murmured. 

“We should,” he agreed, making no move to relinquish his hold on her.

“He’s probably upset.”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t even know where he is.”

“Ask Donna; I think she has homing beacons sewn in the lapels of all his jackets.”

CJ smiled into his shoulder but didn’t move. Toby didn’t either. 

“I feel calmer being near you,” CJ admitted. Then, to make the admission less intense, she quipped, “You’re better than Valium.”

Toby chuckled and she felt the vibration move from his chest to hers. “I’ll add that to my resume.”

“You make me feel safe.” She pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, willing to be serious with him now. “There are very few people who can do that, Toby.”

“I make you feel safe?” Toby’s hands slid to the back of her neck where they worked at the bands of tension wrapped tight at the base of her skull. “I can see that. I feel like a super hero, seeing how I pulled you down and all.”

“I would have got on the floor!”

“Yeah, a couple of minutes after the fact. Your reflexes aren’t exactly cat-like.” He chuckled when she sputtered indignantly.

“Some days you piss me off so much I can’t stand the sight of you," CJ muttered, giving him a grin. 

“I have that effect on people.

“Other says I can’t imagine how I’d get through the day without you.”

Toby studied her with a wry smile. “The feeling is mutual, Claudia Jean.”

“Some days you can’t stand the sight of me? I think I’m endearing!”

“You are. Which is hard because I’m still head over heels for Andi...but I think I’m just as head over heels for you, too.”

Without giving either of them time to think about it or second guess it, CJ lifted her mouth to his and captured his in an intensely deep kiss. There was no hesitation on Toby’s part—he returned the kiss first gently, then more insistently, his beard scraping the delicate skin around her lips. 

“Jesus, CJ!” he groaned, as her hands slid, untucked his shirt, and her palms moved over his bare skin in long, sweet strokes. 

“You’re Jewish,” she teased, nipping at his neck. There was a smile in her voice and deep affection. 

“You’re quibbling about religious semantics when I want to push you down on the sofa and have my way with you?” He kissed her throat, letting his mouth explore the line of her neck.

“Mmm, Toby.” CJ brushed her hips against his pelvis and felt a fierce rush of hot desire when he stirred in response. She cast him a wanton look from beneath half-closed eye lids. “You already pushed me down once today.”

“God help me, I’m ready to do it again.” His hands snaked around her waist, spread across the small of her back, pulled her tightly against him. She made a soft sound of appreciation and pressed her hips against his, grinding until she felt him start to harden. “Don’t tease me, Claudia. Not like this.”

“I’m SO far from teasing right now.”

“Good. Because I want you...and I will have you.” He stepped back from her, went to the door, locked it, checked the blinds, and then began unbuttoning his shirt.

She pulled off her thin beige sweater and then the shell beneath it, kicked off her trousers to reveal her gorgeous long legs. 

She maneuvered him toward the couch, then onto it, and he moved between her legs, rolling his hips against hers. She pulled him down against her chest so that they were skin to skin, the heat of his body overwhelming. 

“Hold me tight,” she whispered, opening for him and taking him inside her, flexing her hips to accommodate his size. She had to breathe deeply for a moment to counter the stab of pain that came from too much of him too fast … but she welcomed even that; it increased the cognizance that they were here, alive, together. 

“You okay?” he murmured in her ear. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” she hissed fiercely. “Don’t you dare stop! Just … hold me tight,” she repeated again. 

“As tight as you want,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her until their bare chests were pressed firmly together. He rested his forehead against hers, breathed her in. 

“Don’t let me go.” She kissed him deeply, desperately, and was gratified that he responded with equal intensity. 

“I’ve got you.” He thrust into her more quickly, though he used shallower strokes, trying not to cause her any more pain. “Are you close like this or do you need a little extra help?”

“I need your hands,” she admitted, almost shyly. 

“You’ve got them.” He slid his fingers into the warmth of her center, lightly fingering her clit in time with his thrusts. “I want to make you feel good, Claudia. I want to make you shiver and moan and shake.”

“Keep using your fingers like that and I will,” she groaned softly, her hips jerking as he made waves of pleasure roll through her with his fingers and his cock. 

“Good.” He kissed her forehead; it was far more tenderness than she was used to from Toby. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He’d never called her that before but it felt right to hear it from his lips. It was what she wanted after the chaos and uncertainty of the last hour. She wanted the knowledge that there were hopeful things in the world, that there wasn’t just glass and gunshots. She wanted to know that it was possible that staid Toby, who showed his softer emotions only to her, was able to call her something so tender and so intimate as “sweetheart” and mean it.

Toby kept teasing her clit with his fingers, working her toward a release, still thrusting in to her but largely concentrating on the motions of his hands. He was making her breath come shorter and faster and she fought back a moan, reminding herself that the building was far from empty.

“I know you're close,” he whispered in her ear. “Squeeze my shoulder when it happens; don’t cry out.” 

“Stop reading my mind,” she laughed softly, arching her back against the thrust of his cock. “God, Toby, I’m about to come--”

“I know.” He stroked her deeply, teasing every sensation out of her. “Hold me hard.”

She dug her fingers into the hard muscles of his back as her climax washed over her. He pressed his mouth to hers, swallowing the quiet helpless cries that came from her throat even though she tried hard to hold them back. 

“One more time,” he murmured against her neck, still stroking her clit. “Come for me again, Claudia. Let me feel it wash over you. Make me feel it, too.”

“Jesus, no wonder they pay you to write speeches,” she said on a gasp. “Keep talking like that and I’ll--” 

Her second orgasm hit her so suddenly, so fiercely, that her world greyed out at the edges for a moment. All she could do was cling to him and hope to god she wasn’t making enough noise to attract attention. 

He must have come right around the same time she had; when she became aware of herself again, she became aware of him, too. He was breathing hard and his hands were clenched around the couch cushions. She kissed his shoulder gently and laid a hand on his cheek. 

“Relax. You can rest on top of me.”

“I’ll crush you.”

“Then I’ll die happy.”

He laughed a little, and eased some of his weight off his arms. He shifted them until they lay side by side on the couch … thank god it was extra wide and extra-long … and was able to cradle her against his left side. 

“We need to get back to the game,” she said softly, making small circles on his chest with her fingers. 

“Probably.”

“Do you want someone coming to check on us?”

“I locked the door.” He pushed her hair away from her face with a gentle hand. “You okay? I wasn’t too rough with you?”

“I’m fine.”

“I didn’t think about whether I might hurt you, I just …” He laid a hand across her abdomen. “I wanted to be inside you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.” She liked having his hand there, though, so she rested her own on top of it. “And thank you for asking.” She decided to indulge in a moment or two of cuddling and shut her eyes. “How about you? No regrets?”

“Not for a single instant.” She felt his kiss on her forehead and was again surprised by how tender he was with her. She hadn’t known this side of Toby existed. “You?”

“Not at all.” CJ gave him a warm and satisfied smile. “This is what I’ve been wanting from you.”

Toby laughed. “You’ve wanted this? You and me, a little late-night office work?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” 

“Yes.” He gave her a self-effacing little grin. “Come on, CJ. You don’t belong with a guy like me.”

“I’m not even going to justify such a ludicrous statement with a response. Toby, here we are. Have a little faith that this is where we’re supposed to be.”

“Faith?” Toby asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Faith,” she murmured insistently. “That this is right.”

“I’m not so good with faith, CJ.”

“I’ve got enough for both of us.” She rose and began to pull on her clothes. “Come on. They’ll miss us.”

***

They went back to the poker game and it was hard to keep the self-satisfied smile off of her lips.

"You're particularly upbeat for someone who's been shot at twice in four years,” Larry commented, passing CJ her cards.

"That's 'cause I have faith there, mi compadre." 

Larry stared at her as if she had lost her mind. “Faith?" 

CJ grinned at him, moving her cards around in her hand, arranging them by suit. "The substance of things hoped for and the evidence of things not seen." 

Toby was doing a better job keeping the smile off his face. “I think what he's asking is why most other nights do you think the world's going to hell in a hula hoop but tonight ...” He didn’t have to finish the sentence. 

“Faith in what?" Larry asked, still pressing the point, oblivious to the unspoken looks between CJ and Toby.

"In us." 

"The people in this room?" 

She didn’t even have to look at Toby this time. "And many, many, many others." 

END.


End file.
